Fade
by laynee
Summary: Something is killing kids in the town and Sam is the only one who can get close to the next victims. Dean and John can keep track of Sam, keep him safe, but somehow it all goes wrong. Pre-series. Sam, 16 and Dean 20
1. Step One

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

I had the middle/end of this in my head for a while and wasn't quite sure how to get to that point. I hope this works. Thanks for reading.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam was half asleep when they finally pulled into the driveway of their new home. The headache that had started out as a faint throb had grown into some sort of monster that was trying to break loose, despite the aspirin he took. He started getting bad headaches, migraines, about a year ago. Not too often, just often enough that he knew when one was coming and he knew how much they sucked.

"Sam." Dean kept his voice low, he knew his brother was hurting.

"I know." He muttered.

Dean got out of the car and went around to get the bags. John pulled up and parked behind the Impala.

"How is he?" John glanced over at his boy.

"He'll be fine after getting some sleep."

John tossed Dean the keys to the upstairs of the house they were renting. Sam had opened his door and was in the process of standing. Moving made his head hurt more and he really would have been all right with staying in the car. He followed Dean up the stairs and through the door.

A ratty couch and chair sat in front of an outdated television. Sam only cared that there was at least one bed in the room that would be his and Dean's. He dropped onto the bare mattress without a second thought and covered his eyes with his arm. Dean came into the room and put Sam's bag down at the end of the bed.

Dean looked at his little brother. "You need anything?"

"No. I just wanna sleep."

"I'll find the better pain pills." Dean tossed a blanket over his brother and pulled off his shoes, like he had done when Sam was so much younger.

"Dean?" Sam raised his arm and looked at Dean with a bleary gaze.

Dean met his brother's eyes.

"Close the door? The hall light…"

"Course." He gripped Sam's arm.

Sam sighed and held tight onto a fistful of blanket. Dean closed the door most of the way on his way out of the room. He met up with John in the hallway.

John shifted the bag on his shoulder. "What brought this one on?"

"He finished school three days ago, had a week of finals and that hunt he helped us on." Dean shrugged. "I'd say it was that."

He looked in at his son and sighed, hated to see his boy in pain. Dean slipped by with an armful of sheets and blankets.

Dean made up the bed that Sam wasn't currently on. He silently fitted sheets and blankets over the mattress and tossed a pillow down. Dean hated to make Sam move, but the kid needed a real bed, not just a mattress.

"Sam." He spoke just above a breath and just under a whisper. "Sammy."

Sam shifted, but didn't uncover his eyes.

"I made up the other bed, if you can get that far, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

He looked up at Dean and then over at the bed. The distance seemed much father than he wanted to move.

Dean held out his hand. "On three?"

Sam's hand shook as he gripped his brother's. He was slowly helped to his feet and guided over to the bed. The moving churned his stomach and pounded in his head. He curled into the pillow and felt Dean pull the blankets up. He took slow, shaky breaths until he was sure his head wasn't going to explode all over the walls. A cool washcloth was eased under his forehead and another over the back of his neck. Some of the tension and pain ebbed away slightly and he sighed.

"You gonna say in your jeans?"

Sam didn't answer, he didn't care. Dean knew that, but he had to ask anyway. He slipped out of the room and closed the door most of the way.

John was at the kitchen table, his notebook already open. Dean sat down across from him.

"What do we got?"

John glanced up. "Kids getting sick. Fine one moment and then in a coma, barely alive the next."

Dean looked down the hall. "Kids how old?"

"High school." He sighed. "Far as I found out, symptoms start as nosebleeds, headaches, vomiting and then they go unconscious three days after it starts."

"Any of them wake up?"

"No." John closed the notebook. "Eight kids so far, youngest was 14 and the oldest was 17."

"We're sure it's nothing else, nothing in the water or anything?"

"CDC's been all over this place and they found nothing. No toxins, no illness, just kids getting sick."

Dean met John's eyes and knew that train of thought all too well. "No."

"Dean."

"No." Dean stood. "He's not going to be bait."

"Never said he would be. I don't want him hurt, either. You know that."

Dean's jaw was set hard. "If anything happens, I swear to god, I will take him and you can go screw yourself."

John smiled, but it was grim and tight. "I know. We'll be right behind him the entire time. We just need him to talk to the kids, I'd be the Impala they know more than the adults at this point. Somebody saw something or heard something or knows something, and maybe they're too scared to tell anyone who looks like an adult."

"Sam know about your plan?" Dean slumped back into the chair, weary.

He nodded and closed the notebook. "He's the one that brought it up."

Dean scoffed. "Sam hasn't hardly said four words in a row to you in the past week." John reached for the journal and flipped it open.

There, in Sam's writing, under John's neat script were the words 'bet the kids know something.' Dean may have been his father's spitting image at hunting, but Sam was a pro at research. He found things even John would have missed, and the thing was, Sam actually didn't mind that part of it.

Something cold dropped into Dean's stomach and he swallowed. Sam was probably right, especially if this thing was targeting kids, but that didn't mean Dean had to like it. Most days it was hard to see the lanky, strong sixteen year old kid Sam was turning into. Every time he looked at his little brother, he still saw the wide eye six year old. Truth of it was, Sam was growing up fast and he was pushing for freedom.

A year ago Dean could hardly get Sam to shut up, now the kid could go nearly a whole day without saying much. He could go a week without saying anything at all to John, and more often than not there was a flash of defiance at his father's words. The orders were still completed without argument, but Sam's independence was growing almost as fast as he was. Dean wouldn't admit it, but Sam was only an inch shorter than him and not stopping any time soon.

Sam still needed Dean though, still sought him out for answers or help or comfort. The kid was just better at hiding it now, at being subtle. He had secrets now, things he wouldn't tell Dean, that was something else new about Sam.

"You know him, Dean. Better than anyone." John met his son's eyes. "Nothings gonna get him, cause you're going to see it a mile away.

He nodded, but his jaw was clenched.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was small and pain filled.

He turned and saw his little brother clinging to the doorframe. "Christ, Sam." Dean went to him and cupped his hand behind Sam's head. "What are you doing up?"

Sam rested his head against Dean's shoulder. "I was thirsty."

Dean pushed Sam back to bed and went to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Sam was curled against the pillow when Dean returned.

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Drink it slow."

"I know." Sam sighed and pushed himself up. He took a shaky drink and handed the glass back.

"Need anything else?"

Sam was already falling back asleep as he slumped down. Dean rested his hand on the kid's head and Sam didn't push him away. He stayed at his kid brother's side until he was sure Sam was asleep.

"He all right?" John whispered from the doorway.

Dean nodded, his hand still on Sam's head.

John sighed and left his boys alone. He ignored the brief moment where he wished he could sit in Dean's place and forced himself back to what he knew about the case.

It was another hour at Sam's bedside, before Dean shifted to standing and put sheets on the other bed. He got ready for bed and lay in the dark for a while as he listened to his little brother sleep. He was uneasy about this upcoming hunt, he didn't like putting Sam in front of whatever was dangerous, but he didn't see any other way to stop what was happening. He heard John's footsteps in the hall and then everything was quiet.

-ff-

This took me a long time to write, and the next chapter might be a while. I have a friend coming to town, so I'm not sure about my free time. Perhaps the next chapters will go a little easier. Thank you all so much for reading, you are who keeps me writing, seriously.


	2. Plan

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam was up and dressed and brushing his teeth when Dean paused in the bathroom doorway.

"You feel okay?"

He nodded and spit out the toothpaste.

"How's your head?"

"Fine." He pushed past Dean and went to the kitchen.

Dean sighed and wondered how much longer this new, moody Sam would be hanging around. Believe it or not, he missed the days of threatening the kid with duct tape just to shut up.

John sat with the newspaper open and looked up as Sam came into the room. He opened the cupboards in search of breakfast.

"Cereal is on the counter, bowls too. Hadn't put them away yet." John watched his son for signs of pain.

Sam poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down across from John.

"How's your head?"

He sighed. "Fine. Really, so you don't have to ask a million times."

"Sam." A one word warning about an attitude John wasn't going to deal with.

Dean came in and sat down next to Sam. He looked from his father to his brother to judge what level the hostility was at.

"I was thinking of heading down to the park." Sam glanced up. "See if I can find anyone, since it's summer and I can't meet people at school." He stood and put his bowl in the sink. "I'll let you know what I find out. When do you want me home?"

John paused, that was the most Sam had said to him in nearly a month and almost none of it was laced with attitude.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean pressed his hand against Sam's head and smirked when he was pushed away.

"Jerk." Sam leaned against the counter. "Unless you have a better plan."

"The plan is fine. Stay in the park, don't go anywhere alone-" 

"I know." He snapped.

"And be home by dinner." He took a slow breath. "Sam, be careful. Dean will swing by a couple times, but he'll stay out of sight."

Sam eyed his brother before he nodded. "Fine. Bye." He was out the door before Dean or John could say another word.

Sam grabbed a basketball that was tucked under the steps, it had probably been there for years, but there was air in it.

Dean poured himself a cup of coffee. "He's your son."

"Yeah, but he listens to you." John went back to the paper. "You were never this much trouble."

"Because I was hustling pool at his age." He snorted. "Yeah, I was a dream kid."

"Keep an eye on your brother. This thing is quick and I don't want to have Sam, or you, up against anything alone."

Dean nodded and headed out the door. He knew that if Sam saw him, he'd be as good as dead.

Sam headed down the quiet streets towards the middle of town. He knew there had to be a park somewhere. A town this small didn't offer much for high school kids to do, so a basketball court was the best bet.

It didn't take someone like John Winchester to see that there was something wrong in the town. It was a perfect summer day, and nobody was outside. Cars were parked in driveways, but there were no kids running through sprinklers or riding their bikes or playing in the yards. There were no dads mowing the lawn or moms working in gardens. Walking down the street, it was like Sam was the last person on earth.

He found the park and wasn't surprised that he was the only one. It didn't matter much, at least he was out of the house. He was all right at basketball, good enough to hold his own at least. He had been shooting baskets for about an hour when he finally saw someone.

The boy was about his age and stood on the opposite side of the court.

"Wanna play?" Sam rested his foot on the basketball.

"Sure." He walked over and Sam passed him the ball. "I've never seen you around before."

Sam blocked the boy's shot. "Just moved."

The two boys played for a while, not speaking. They were about even in skill, but they didn't keep score. It didn't matter.

The boy caught the ball. "I thought you might have been the family of someone. Seen a lot of family, because of all the funerals."

Sam turned to the boy. "Funerals?"

He took a breath and looked towards the street. "I don't know a lot, I go to a boarding school so I just got back, but a lot of kids have died." He turned to Sam. "Kids like our age."

"From what?"

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Nobody knows. Now nobody goes out. The CDC was here, but couldn't find anything. Nothing bad in the water or the air or the ground or the food. You picked a hell of a time to move here."

"I guess. So, nobody knows anything?"

The boy looked away again, the ball in his hands. "Well. There are some theories. Danny, my friend, said a group of them are getting together here tomorrow night. After curfew."

"Why?"

"I think we're gonna try and piece together what we know. See if we can figure out something, a way to protect ourselves at least." He looked up at Sam. "What's your name?"

"Sam."

"I'm Nick." He extended his hand. "Maybe come tomorrow night. Might give you a chance."

Sam shook Nick's hand. "Okay. I'll have to sneak out, my dad's pretty strict about rules."

"Up to you." He looked towards the houses. "I should go, I just had to get out of the house for a bit. Thanks for the game." He tossed Sam the ball.

Sam caught it and watched Nick walk away. He wasn't standing there long before he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hi, Dean." He didn't have to turn to figure who it was.

"So, made a new friend?"

Sam shrugged. "He said a bunch of kids are getting together tomorrow night, try and figure out what they know." He turned to his brother.

"I don't know, Sammy."

"You want to figure this thing out, or not?"

Dean nodded. "Dad wants us back, says we got some training to do. And he wants to know what you found out."

"Fine." Sam dropped the ball and headed back towards the house.

Dean jogged to catch up, but the two boys didn't talk. John was waiting for them on the back steps.

"I'm gonna change." Sam walked past John and went inside.

John sighed and waited a minute before he followed with Dean. Sam pulled on basketball shorts and a tee shirt. He stood for a moment in the middle of the room and listened to the low voices of his father and brother through the thin walls, he liked that sound, it had been his lullaby his entire life.

Sam came out to the living room and met John's eyes. "Dean tell you?"

"He did. I don't want you out there alone."

"I know." Sam glanced over at Dean. "Don't know if Dean's allowed though, he sorta looks like an adult now."

Dean grabbed Sam in a headlock. "That's because I am, dork."

Sam had himself out of the grab and Dean almost pinned in under three minutes. John was proud, the kid was coming along, but he was also hardly a kid any more.

"I stay in the shadows." Dean caught his reflection in the window to fix his hair. "Just to make sure Samantha doesn't get in his head."

John watched as Sam grabbed Dean from behind and managed to get him to the floor. "Take it outside, boys. Be back in an hour, be careful."

Dean got to his feet and pulled Sam outside. Despite Sam's newfound independence and silence, he and Dean were still thick as thieves. Once outside the boys started running, with everything going on, even they didn't want to be too far from home when it got dark. The sparring could wait, under the safety of the yard light and John's watchful eye. Dean had to admit, Sam was getting faster and stronger. He had already proven that he knew what he was doing in a hunt and even gained the rare John Winchester nod of approval.

Sam glanced back at Dean. "Slowing down in your old age?" He ran faster to stay out of Dean's grasp.

"It's not age, Samantha, it's experience." Dean sped up just to prove to Sam who was still the best.

The boys were back in the yard just as it was starting to get dark. John was waiting for them by the back door.

"Come in for dinner, you can work more later." He went into the house, certain that his boys would follow.

Sam sprinted up the stairs and pushed Dean out of the way at the last moment. He flashed a smile at his older brother and went to clean up. In all honesty, Dean was just happy to see Sam back to his usual mildly annoying self.

-ff-

Sorry about the eon it took me to update, I'll try to not let that happen again. I sort of lost the motivation to write this for a while, but the end of it kept coming to mind. So I will write to get there, but mostly I will write because it is your feedback that keeps me writing. I feel guilty if I wait too long to post another chapter, so, I'm sorry. Thanks for reading.


	3. Step Two

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

John, Dean and Sam sat around the small kitchen table. John's notebook was open in the middle of the table, newspaper clippings were spread out around it. The dark of the night pressed in against the windows. John rested his head in his hands for a minute.

He looked up at his boys. "I don't know, Sam."

"This might be the best chance to find something." Sam glanced over at Dean. "You and Dean are gonna be in the shadows making sure I don't get in over my head, anyway"

Dean leaned back in the chair. "I know, but it still ends up with you in a position a lot like bait."

"I've gone up against things before, alone or nearly alone." Sam unconsciously slipped into the tone that John didn't tolerate and redirected. "I mean, I know this plan sucks, but we don't really have another one."

John looked over at Dean before he met Sam's eyes. "I don't want you in danger."

"How are we gonna figure out what's going on? Your research turn up a bunch of stuff you haven't told us?" Sam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"Sam." That one word warning again.

He didn't back down, didn't look away, didn't apologize. That was Sam's style lately, to push back against John just to see how far he could go. On some level, John knew Sam was just feeling out his independence, but that didn't mean it still didn't make him jump right to anger. The kid knew exactly what buttons to push and he was too damn smart for his own good.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Sam pushed his chair back. "Fine." He retreated to the bedroom.

Dean watched his father carefully to read him. "So, what's plan B?"

"There isn't one. Research isn't turning up anything. We can't even go into this blind because we don't know what we're looking for." He sighed. "If Sam thinks he can find out something by meeting up with those kids tomorrow night, then we have to take it. We'll spend tomorrow getting him ready."

"He's gonna love that." Dean snorted.

"It will be lots of fun for all of us." John deadpanned. "The quicker we figure this out, the better, too many kids have died already."

"And the list of likely suspects is?"

John sighed and pulled his notebook over. "Best case scenario? Some sort of vengeful spirit. Worst? Demon or something we've never even heard of yet."

"I don't like it."

"I know, neither do I. We don't have a whole lot of other options at this point, Dean."

Dean got up from the table and went to the bedroom, feeling that he was allowing his brother to be set up for slaughter. Sam was reading when Dean came into the room. The boys didn't say anything to each other.

-s-

Sam spent the day training with Dean under John's critical eye. When Sam spoke to John, it was usually a sarcastic "Yes, sir", but he'd do as he was told. He knew his father and brother were giving him everything they knew to keep him safe, but his first instinct was to be defiant.

That night, an hour before everyone was going to meet at the park, Sam stood in the middle of the living room. A line up of weapons and protections were spread out on the kitchen table. John and Dean checked and doubled checked everything.

"Sam." John looked over at his boy.

He wouldn't admit to being nervous, or even a little scared, he'd never admit that. Sam walked over, his jaw set and his eyes determined. Only Dean was able to pick out the faint flash of concern in Sam's steady gaze.

John took a breath and handed Sam a small flask of holy water, a sliver knife and a vial of salt. He dipped his thumb in a small bowl of holy water and made the sign of a cross on Sam's forehead. Sam resisted the urge to pull away and held still.

He held Sam by the shoulders. "Don't go anywhere alone, don't leave the park. If something doesn't feel right, trust that feeling. Dean and I will be close if you need help."

Sam nodded. "Got this, too." He pulled out a tape recorder. "For the notes later."

John couldn't help but smile a little. "Good. Ready?"

He nodded once and headed to the door. "Don't follow too close." He paused in the doorway. "I'm gonna be fine, all this isn't going to matter."

The three Winchester men left unsaid the knowledge that more hunts have turned bad then they cared to admit, that it always seemed if it could go wrong it would, that even the simplest of salt and burns went to hell. Sam stepped out into the night and headed towards the park. John and Dean stayed about a block behind Sam, they stuck to shadows like they were on a hunt. They hoped that they wouldn't need any of the precautions or weapons they had prepared. They ignored the tight feeling of unease in the pits of their stomachs.

Sam stood under the light that lit up the basketball court. He was alone in the park, the town had an eerie, abandoned feel to it. He heard footsteps behind him and turned. His heart beat quicker until he recognized Nick and a girl and boy he didn't know. They walked over to Sam.

"Just us?" Sam glanced to the side.

"Don't know yet." Nick pointed to the other two. "This is Jack and Emily. Sam just moved here, figured he should know what we're up against."

Jack scoffed. "None of us know that. Not really."

"I might." Emily muttered. "Because of Shawn."

Everyone sobered at the realization that Shawn, whoever he was, was one of the victims. There wasn't too much time to dwell on it before two others came over. Another girl and a boy who was considerably taller than her came to the group. Sam instantly recognized the protective posture of an older brother.

The girl looked at Sam. "Haven't seen you around before."

"Just moved here."

"I'm Abby, this is Tom, my brother."

"Sam." He reached out and shook their hands.

The six teenagers stood close together under one of the lights. The crickets chirped in the shadows and a warm, summer breeze rustled the trees. Other than that, it was just silence.

"Well?" Jack looked at each of them.

Emily kept her eyes focused on the ground, Sam wanted to put his arm around her in comfort, but he was the new kid and nobody knew him. "Shawn died last week." She spoke just above a whisper. "The week before that he was fine."

"What happened?" Abby asked. Tom stepped closer to her.

"He snuck out one night, to meet his girlfriend at the lake. When he got back in the morning, he said his head hurt. Then his nose started to bleed. By that night he was delirious with fever, kept saying things that didn't make sense." 

Sam took a step closer and took her hand. Abby took her other hand.

"What'd he say?" Tom asked, his eyes on Abby.

Emily sighed and closed her eyes. "He kept saying "her eyes are black, the seed is spoiled". Until his voice was gone."

Sam squeezed her hand gently, but his blood ran cold. He knew what was doing this. He glanced over to where he knew his brother and father were hidden, invisible in the night.

"Then he died. Two days later. He just never woke up again." She looked up at Abby. "Before he went unconscious, he looked at me and told me a secret."

"What'd he say?"

She shook her head. "It's a secret, Abby. You're my best friend, but he's my brother."

Tom rested his hand on Abby's shoulder. "We should get home before someone misses us."

Jack took a slow breath. "Same time next week?"

"I'm in." Nick had his arms wrapped around himself like it was cold, even though it wasn't. "Until we figure out how to keep from dying."

"Emily, want Tom and I to walk you home?"

She nodded and put her arm around Abby. The group split up and slipped into the darkness.

Sam remained where he was. He couldn't get the way Emily's voice broke out of his head, her grief was something solid he could feel. She had watched her brother die and nobody knew why. Sam could feel the fear in the group that had met in the park, their terror of the unknown, of not knowing who they would never see again.

He turned at the almost silent sound of footsteps.

Dean saw the fear and sadness in his little brother's eyes. "Sammy?"

Sam handed over the tape recorder.

"Let's talk about this back at the house." John rested his hand on his son's shoulder, Sam didn't push away his dad's hand.

They walked home in silence, closer than usual. Sam was quiet and pensive and scared if he was honest with himself. He didn't know how the demon was picking its victims, or if it was just random. He also didn't think that Shawn's last words were simply from his fever. Black eyes was easy enough to understand, but the spoiled seed was harder.

Once home, Sam helped salt the windows and doors and put up extra protection.

The three Winchesters sat down at the kitchen table. Sam rewound the tape recorder and hit play. John and Dean listened to the conversation and listened to Emily talk about her brother all over again. Dean reached over and rested his hand on Sam's arm.

"Demon, that's obvious." John sighed. "But I can't figure out what it wants. At least now I know where to look." He looked over at Sam. "You pick up anything from the kids?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll hang around this next week, see if I can get to know them better before the next meeting." He paused. "I'm going to that one, aren't I?"

John ran his hand through his hair. "Unless we figure out something else. Dean?"

Dean looked into Sam's eyes for a long time. "He needs more protection, now that we know and you're not going anywhere alone."

In all honesty, Sam didn't want to be too far from Dean. Demons tended to know when the Winchesters came to town, and Sam didn't want any of them alone. None of them were safe.

-ff-

I'm trying this update sooner thing, but I don't think I'm very good at it. Thank you for following me with this story, thank you for reading. I always sort of knew where it would end, but now I'm excited to get there. (Finally)


	4. Meet

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam woke early the next morning. He remembered dreaming about girls with black eyes and people his age dying with blood rushing down their faces. It sent a chill up his spine as he sat up.

Dean cracked one eye open. "S'barely light out." He sat up on one elbow. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Sometimes Sam hated that Dean always knew when he woke up, when he fell asleep, knew so much about him,

He looked at Sam for a few more seconds before he flopped back down onto the mattress and went back to sleep.

Sam slipped out of bed and went to shower. There wasn't a lot of water pressure, but he'd had worse showers. The events of the night, at the park, seemed less scary than they did in the dark. He could focus on the facts without all the fear and think about what needed to be done.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and braced his hands on the edge of the counter. He looked into his eyes in the reflection of the fogged mirror. He liked those rare mornings when he didn't have Dean or his dad beating down the bathroom door for him to hurry up.

He pulled on jeans and a tee shirt and went to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee for his dad and brother and sat down at the table to go over the notes. John came into the kitchen not long after and looked at his boy.

"Dean up yet?"

Sam didn't look up from his notes. "It's just barely seven."

John poured himself a cup of coffee instead of starting an argument. He sat down across from his son and looked at what he was working on. Sam had listed the names of everyone he met last night and was in the process of labeling them with symbols and letters. He glanced up once at his dad and sighed. John leaned back in his chair and took a drink of coffee.

"I don't know if it's related to any of the kids from last night." Sam said after a long silence. "I need more time." He looked up at John.

"I don't want you getting completely wrapped up in this. Dean and I are in this, too." He slid a necklace to Sam, a rough symbol carved into a metal disk.

Sam recognized the added protection and put it on. "But I'm the only one who can get close."

John leaned forward and met his son's eyes. "And I need you safe."

A quick flash of anger and defiance flickered in Sam's eyes before he nodded. He gathered up his notes. "I'm gonna spend the day in town and see who's around."

"Not alone."

He sighed, his jaw set. "I'm fine."

"Sam."

"Do you want to know who's involved in this, or do you just want to screw around as more people die? Have Dean trail me if you need to, but having my older brother hang out with me won't win me any friends." The words were sharp and hard.

"Watch your tone."

He scoffed and headed towards the bedroom to get his shoes.

"We're not done, Sam."

Sam spun around. "What do you want from me? I focus on the hunt and you tell me not to, I focus on school and you pull me out for a hunt. I'm sixteen, Dean was going on solo hunts at sixteen."

"Not demons. None of us are doing this one alone, least of all you."

His anger deflated some. "Yeah, all right." He turned towards the room and saw Dean in the doorway.

Sam pushed past him and went to find his shoes. Dean met John's steady gaze.

"That boy is going to be the death of me." John muttered and reached for his coffee.

Dean smirked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Makes damn good coffee, though."

"How'd you know this was his?"

"Dad, yours is closer to engine oil than coffee. I could use it in the Impala."

Sam came into the room and stood by the door. He looked at Dean for a few minutes before he sighed and threw open the door.

John looked at Dean. "I'd stay out of sight as you follow him today."

"I gathered that much from the conversation you two had this morning." He stood and took a last drink of coffee. "I use the term 'conversation' loosely."

"I'll be back tonight, I have a few people I need to look into and some police and medical records to get a hold of." John stood. "Stay out of trouble and watch out for Sam."

"I know." Dean followed after his brother out the door.

John stood a moment in the empty silence of the room before he gathered up his notebook and left.

-s-

Sam had spent enough time in new towns to be able to find the places kids gathered without hardly trying. Little kids stuck to the park during the day, older kids were at a lake if there was one. This town had a rec center, everyone would be there. Sam glanced back and saw Dean about a block back. It wasn't so much that Sam honestly thought he could take on a demon on his own, he knew he couldn't, it was more that he never had any time on his own. He was either in a hotel room or the car or going over notes or the library and all of those places contained Dean and his dad. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone anywhere, besides school, alone.

He saw Nick and another boy playing basketball at the rec center. Jack sat on a bench nearby. Sam walked over to the boys and sat down next to Jack.

"Anything new?" Sam glanced over.

Jack shook his head. "Not that I've heard, yet. People sort of figure that Emily is next, being that her brother was the most recent one and all. Her mom's keeping her pretty close to home." He kept his voice low, as though even saying the words out loud would condemn someone to their death. He shook his head. "This is all so messed up."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Who's Nick with?"

"Danny. He couldn't sneak out last night. I've known those two since we were all in kindergarten." He blew air through his teeth. "I think the worst part is just waiting for whoever is next."

Nick came over with the basketball tucked under his arm. "Sam, wanna play two on two?"

"Sure."

Sam and Jack joined the game. They played for a few hours and then went to the benches for a break.

Jack pulled his wallet from his bag. "I'm gonna get a soda. Anyone want anything?"

Danny tossed him a crumpled bill. "Coke." He grabbed the basketball and started making free throws.

"Sam, Nick?"

Sam shook his head.

"I'm okay." Nick muttered.

Jack disappeared into the hall. Sam looked over at Nick. He had his head rested in his palm.

"Nick?" Sam moved closer. "You all right?"

Nick nodded. "Just tired." He looked up, but there was fear in his eyes.

"You sure?"

He swallowed and then shook his head slightly. "I don't wanna go like Shawn, like the others." He clenched his jaw. "It could just be a normal headache, right?"

"Yeah." Sam hoped it was. "I mean, you haven't gone anywhere weird or anything?"

"No. Just the usual places with the usual people." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm so fucking scared."

"I bet I could call my brother, we could drive you home."

He opened his eyes and looked at Sam. "Nah, I'll just walk." He stood.

"I'll walk with you."

"Sure." He stood. "Sam, don't tell anyone. Don't want them to worry about nothing." He tried to smile.

Sam nodded. "Let's go."

Nick turned to Danny. "Hey. I just remembered, I have to get home or my mom worries. Catch you tomorrow?"

"Sure." He looked over at Sam. "You leaving, too?"

"Yeah. See you later."

Nick and Sam stepped outside. Sam didn't miss how Nick winced at the light, how he reached for the wall for support.

Sam looked for Dean and saw him across the street, pretending to be reading a book, but he knew better.

"Sam?" The fear in Nick's voice was unmistakable.

He turned and saw Nick leaned against the wall with one hand up to his face. He met Sam's eyes and pulled his hand away. Blood ran from his nose. His knees gave out and Sam caught him before he could fall. He eased Nick to the ground and looked over this shoulder for Dean.

"I don't want to die, Sam." Nick's hands shook.

"You won't."

He closed his eyes and whispered. "Everyone else did."

Sam heard Dean's footsteps behind him and turned. "We have to get him home."

"Help me get him up."

"Nick?" Sam rested his hand on Nick's shoulder. "My brother's here, we're going to take you home."

Nick nodded. "Thanks."

Sam and Dean eased Nick to his feet and helped him the three blocks back to his house. By the time they reached his front door, he was shaking and blood continued to flow from his nose. Sam knocked on the door and Nick's mom opened it. She didn't even ask what happened, the fear and knowledge was already in her eyes when she took him inside.

Dean and Sam were left standing alone on the doorstep.

"Sammy?"

He turned to Dean.

"I'm sorry."

"Let's just go home." Sam's voice was low.

-ff-

I'm trying this update sooner thing, but I don't think I'm very good at it. Thank you for following me with this story, thank you for reading. I always sort of knew where it would end, but now I'm excited to get there.


	5. Step Three

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

John wasn't back when Sam and Dean arrived home. Sam went straight to the bedroom without saying a word. Dean gave him a minute before following.

"Sam?" Dean paused in the doorway.

He looked up.

"You couldn't have known."

"I know." He sighed. "He's going to die, Dean."

Dean walked over and sat next to Sam. "We'll get this thing."

"Not soon enough."

That was Sam all over, heart on his sleeve despite his Winchester upbringing. Thank god he did, because otherwise Dean and John would forget that sometimes the victims were more important than getting the monster. Sam had always been the one to ask the questions that pissed John off, but most often needed to be asked anyway.

Dean reached over and grabbed Sam's arm. "I know, but we'll get it before it can get too much farther. All right?"

Sam nodded, his jaw still set hard and he wouldn't look over at Dean. "He was so scared, Dean."

"Are you?"

He barely nodded, but Dean still saw it. Dean saw everything about Sam.

"We need to get all the research together tonight." Sam said, determined. "Whatever dad found today and the stuff I have."

"I'm sure that's what we'll do tonight."

"Good." Sam finally looked over at Dean.

Dean knew his brother well enough to know when Sam needed time alone. "I'm going to clean some weapons." He stood and left the room.

Sam leaned back on the bed and folded his hands under his head. He took a slow breath and tried to forget the fear in Nick's eyes. He tried to forget the look in Nick's mother's eyes, the fear and acceptance. She knew her son would die, just like the others. He hated that there was absolutely nothing they could do to save him, that another boy was going to die because the Winchesters weren't fast enough or smart enough or knew enough. Too late, again.

He didn't know how much time passed until he heard the voices of his dad and brother in the next room. He heard footsteps and sat up as John opened the door.

John met his son's eyes. "Are you all right?"

Sam nodded.

"Dean told me what happened." He sat down on Dean's bed.

He looked down and swallowed. "At least we know it wasn't Nick, narrows it down."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

He nodded once and took a breath before he looked up. "Did you find anything out?"

"Maybe, at least a little more background on everyone. How about we put it all together and see what we can figure out."

"Okay." Sam stood and left the room without waiting for his dad.

John, Dean and Sam sat at the kitchen table. All their notes were spread out, organized in piles. Notes were scribbled, crossed out, written again. They worked mostly in silence as the evening fell around them. John had rarely seen Sam so focused about a hunt, the boy made it pretty clear that hunting was the last thing he wanted to be doing. They forgot about dinner until John stood up to turn on a light and realized how late it was.

"How about we take a break and order in pizza?"

Dean leaned back in his chair. "Definitely."

Sam kept looking at his notes.

"Sam?" Dean nudged him.

"I'm missing something." He muttered.

Dean closed the notebook Sam was looking at. "Take a break, geek boy. Read too much and your eyes will cross, and no girl wants that."

"Dean." Sam wasn't in the mood to screw around.

He mimicked the pissed off tone. "Sam." He took a breath. "Yeah, things went to shit today, but we can't stop this until we know who it is."

"And we won't know who it is until we figure it out." 

"That's right, we, not you alone. Sometimes you gotta step back from something so you can see the whole picture."

Sam looked at his brother like he had suddenly grown another head. "That, that was intelligent."

"I'm impressed." John shrugged.

Dean looked from his brother to his dad and back again. "Hey, I'm not just a pretty face. I have a brain. Give me some credit, just because I don't memorize the library like Einstein here."

Sam tried not to smirk, but in all honesty, Dean was just glad that he was still able to make his kid brother smile. Even if it was for a second and even it if was in the middle of a hunt quickly going to hell.

They put the research away until the pizza came and decided to eat on the steps, since the kitchen table was covered in notes. On cases like this, the rule was no talk of the hunt during meals. Everyone needed a break when there were too many unanswered questions. They ate in silence.

"You want us to train after dinner?" Sam glanced over at John, that edge to his voice again.

"What do you always do after dinner?"

Sam sighed. "Train."

"Then that's what you'll be doing. Stay in the yard and stay with Dean."

"Well, obviously."

John was about to reprimand him for his tone when he caught Dean's eyes. More often than not, Dean couldn't stop Sam and John going after each other, but until this hunt was done, Sam didn't need it. The kid was already under enough stress, so if he talked back, it wasn't just his usual teenage attitude. Dean didn't expect John to be able to tell the difference between defiant Sam and scared Sam, but Dean sure as hell could see it.

John stood. "Boys, clean up." He went into the house.

Sam's jaw was set, as it usually was when he and John had a conversation. He stood and picked up his plate. Dean sighed and followed.

As soon as the dishes were done, Sam and Dean changed for training. At this point it was mostly sparring to keep their skills sharp and their reflexes fast. Sam had already been taught how to use most of the weapons and he was a damn good shot when he focused. They sparred until John called them in for the night.

Dean stretched his shoulder. "Christ, Sam. When exactly did you become able to pin me?"

"It was only three times." He climbed the stairs.

"Yeah, but a few months ago you got lucky if you got me once."

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

Dean gripped his shoulder. "You did good, really."

The boys went inside and the rest of the evening was spent looking at notes and trying to figure out who was behind all the deaths.

-s-

Sam woke the next morning with the sun pouring through the window. He wondered how Nick was, if his parents had brought him to the hospital or if they just wanted him home. He wondered who was next. He wondered if Danny and Jack knew yet. He got out of bed and got ready.

John was in the kitchen with his usual cup of coffee and newspaper. He looked up when Sam came in, there was something like sympathy in his eyes and it just made Sam angry. Sympathy didn't fix anything, being sorry didn't stop anything and concern did nothing more than lead to caution. All the caution in the world wouldn't stop those kids from dying.

Dean came into the room not long after Sam had poured himself a bowl of cereal. He sat down between his dad and brother.

"Anything in the news?" Dean kept his eyes on Sam.

"No, but this is a few days behind."

Sam played with his cereal more than he ate it. "I don't know if anyone's gonna be around today. I figure the parents know about Nick by now, and they'd probably keep everyone close." He looked up. "I'll look anyway."

John nodded. He forgot how quickly Sam made friends and how hard it must be for his son to not know what was behind this.

Sam and Dean set out for town an hour later. If they thought it was abandoned before, they were wrong. The houses all had the curtains pulled shut and the doors locks. Nobody was out, Sam and Dean could have been the last two people on Earth.

"This is creepy." Dean muttered.

"As opposed to?"

He had to agree, they had never experienced this town before it was creepy and dangerous and dark.

Sam stopped in front of Nick's house. Someone had put a remembrance candle on the front step along with a few flowers. Nobody expected him to miraculously survive.

A rock hit the gutter behind them and Sam turned. He saw Jack in the doorway of his house. He motioned Sam to come over.

Sam jogged across the street, Dean stayed a few feet behind.

Jack glanced behind him into the house. "I don't have a lot of time, my mom will kill me if she knows I'm at the door." He paused. "A group of us are getting together tonight, at the basketball courts. Like before."

"Why tonight?"

"Keep tabs on who's left." His eyes glanced to Nick's house. "Try and figure out where Nick was before he got sick."

"I'm sorry, about Nick."

Jack nodded. "Thanks. You'll be there tonight? Midnight." His eyes were filled with fear and the faint hope that maybe someone knows something, anything.

"Yeah."

He almost smiled. "I wish you would have moved here at a better time."

Sam never would have moved here at all if kids weren't being picked off by a demon, that was the terribly irony of it all.

"Me too." Sam glanced back at Dean.

There was a noise from inside the house and Jack tensed. "I gotta go. Midnight."

"I'll be there."

The door closed and Sam took a step back. He took a slow breath and went to Dean.

Dean looked to the house. "Which one was he?"

"Jack. We're getting together at midnight tonight."

They turned to head back home, to report to John and to figure out a plan. If they couldn't find who was behind this, then they could at least try and protect some of the kids. The Winchesters never were very good at doing nothing.

-ff-

Dun dun dunnnnn. Thank you all so so much for reading and for the comments. I love reading them and they definitely keep me writing this for you.


	6. Forget

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam, Dean and John sat at the table. It seemed like that's all they had been able to do so far in the case. Sam and Dean had a handful of wooden disks in front of them. They were carefully carving signs of protection into them. It wouldn't stop anything really powerful, but it might buy the kids some time if they had them. Maybe.

John looked up from the notes. "You think it might be Jack?"

Sam shrugged. "He lives across the street from Nick, but I don't know. He was scared." Sam looked up. "But that doesn't mean anything."

"You said Nick hadn't gone anywhere strange or was with anyone strange?"

"He was away at boarding school until recently, this was already happening when he got back. His parents made sure they knew where he was." He looked back down at what he was carving. "It's got to be someone they all know."

"If it is, we have to go at this carefully." John looked directly at Sam. "We shouldn't lose anyone else."

"Maybe if I had this to the right person, we'll know who is behind this." Sam held up one of the wooden disks, now suspended from a thin leather strap. "We could soak them in holy water."

Dean shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

There was a sad smile on his lips as he watched his boys. Sure, he was proud of them, of how smart they were, but they were talking of things he wished they had never known.

-s-

Sam stood by the back door. His pocket held a flask of holy water and the protection charms he and Dean had made. His other pocket held the tape recorder. His stomach was tight with nerves and his mouth was dry. Whoever this demon was in, they had to find it soon. Too many kids had died and they didn't know why.

Dean came out in a black shirt and dark jeans. He met Sam's eyes and nodded. "You ready?"

He nodded.

John came out dressed similar. "Be careful, Sam. Dean and I will be across the street, like before. If you need help, just yell."

Dean threw his arm around Sam's shoulders. "We won't let nothing happen to you."

"I know. I'll be fine." He shoved Dean's arm away. "Ready?"

John nodded.

Sam took a breath and went outside. He walked a block and then glanced back. He only saw his dad and brother because he had been trained to see things hidden in shadows. He smiled a little to himself. He'd be all right. Nothing could touch him with his dad and brother so close.

Jack was already at the basketball courts when Sam got there. He sucked in a breath, flipped on the tape recorder and gripped the flask of holy water. If it was Jack…..

"Hey." Sam's voice cut through the darkness.

Jack turned with a relieved smile. "Glad someone else is here."

Sam pulled out one of the protection charms. "This is going to sound weird, but my grandma believes in all this ghost, paranormal stuff. She was worried about me and my new friends. So she sent this box of, well she called them protection charms." He shook his head. "She said they might keep us safe?" He held one up.

"At this point, I'd take whatever I can get." Jack held his hand out.

Sam lowered it into his hand and nothing happened.

Jack tied it around his wrist. "Thanks." He looked up and met Sam's eyes. "Tell your grandma thanks, too."

"I will. I hope it works." He lifted the charm he wore around his neck to show Jack.

"Well, you're doing all right, so far."

Sam nodded.

Emily and Danny came next, they walked close together. When the arrived Sam handed them protection charms as well. Two more people that didn't react when holy water touched their skin.

Danny glanced around. "Anyone else coming?"

"Abby said she and Tom would be here." Emily muttered, she played with the leather strap of the charm.

"Here they are." Jack looked up past Sam's shoulder.

Abby and Tom joined the circle. She stood close to Sam, her eyes were wide with fear. The six stood closer together than the first time.

"Abby." Sam turned to her. He held up one of the charms.

Her eyes glanced down at it, then up at Sam. Her eyes were no longer wide with fear. They were as black as the night.

"Samuel. You won't remember this." She gripped his wrist in her hand. "I promise."

Before he could even breathe or reach for the holy water in his pocket, there was a sharp prick of pain on the inside of his wrist. He looked down and saw a spot of blood. She let go of his arm as quick as she grabbed it.

He blinked and took a staggered breath. Her eyes were just fear filled again. She leaned close to him.

"You seem to know what you're doing, so you might survive all this." She didn't take the charm. "I hope you do." She wiped the blood away from Sam's wrist, all that was there was a small scrape. The charm fell from Sam's hand.

Nobody else in the circle noticed anything, it happened too fast.

The six kids only stood there in the dark for ten minutes. The said goodbye and ran back to their homes. Like before, Sam stood there alone until John and Dean came up behind him.

Dean gripped Sam's shoulder. "Learn anything?"

Sam shook his head. "It seems the only people who know anything are the ones who are dead." He sighed. "They're just scared."

John knelt down and picked up one of the charms. "Someone left this." He held it up.

Sam handed over the tape recorder and found one extra charm in his pocket. "I have an extra one." 

"So two people didn't get one." Dean took them both. "You remember who?"

"Maybe we made extras." Sam muttered. "I think everyone got one."

John, Dean and Sam walked back to the house. They got inside, locked everything down and put down salt and charms.

"Boys, why don't you go to bed." John looked at his sons.

Sam met his eyes. "What about the tape recorder?"

"I'll go over it. Get some rest."

He nodded and went to brush his teeth.

Dean leaned on the back of a chair. "Any ideas?"

John shook his head. "I'll see if anyone said something on the tape." He ran his hands through his hair. "I just don't know."

"Want help?"

"I won't be long, get some sleep."

Dean nodded and went to the room. Sam was already in bed, but not asleep.

"Dean?" He looked over at his brother.

"What do you need?"

Sam sat up on one elbow. "I'm sorry I didn't figure out anything else tonight."

"Maybe you did and it just hasn't fit together yet. We'll figure this one out." He turned out the light. "Goodnight, bitch."

"Dork." Sam smiled and turned over.

John sat at the kitchen table and turned on the tape recorder. He heard Sam's voice and then he heard something that made his blood run cold. He flipped through his notes until he found the pages on Tom and Abby. He didn't have much, but he had their address. And he knew why there were two extra protection charms.

He ran to his boys' room and turned on the light. Sam and Dean squinted against the sudden brightness.

"Dad, what the hell." Dean sat up.

Sam sat up. "What's wrong?"

John went to Sam and gripped his wrists. Sam winced at the unexpected pain and pulled his arm back. He looked down and saw a scratch he didn't remember getting.

"Dad?" Sam glanced over at Dean.

"Are you sure you told us everything you remember about tonight?"

Sam nodded.

Dean went over to Sam. "Dad, what's going on?"

John carefully turned over Sam's arm and saw the scratch. "What happened here?"

"Dunno. Must have scraped it training with Dean last night or something. Why?" His heart pounded in fear, something was wrong. He could see it in his dad's eyes.

"Both of you get dressed." He stood. "I know who's behind this."

Sam and Dean didn't waste any time pulling on jeans and shirts. They were out the door and in the car in under five minutes. Dean was checking that his gun was loaded with silver as John drove.

Sam leaned forward between the two front seats. "You're not telling us something."

John glanced up in the mirror at Sam. "Let it go. We have a job to do."

He leaned back, his arms folded across his chest.

John looked at his son in the mirror again. Damn right there was something he wasn't telling his boys.

The house was dark when they pulled up. The Winchesters got out, dangerous and focused. As though Abby and Tom knew, they stepped out onto the front porch. She smiled at the visitors.

"Gentlemen." Her eyes rested on Sam for a moment. "Had I known we were expecting company, I would have made some coffee."

Tom stood as silent as a statue behind her. Sam then recognized him for what he was, not an older brother, but protection so that Abby could do what she set out to do.

"Hello again, Samuel."

Dean automatically took a step in front of his brother. "You forgot these." He tossed the protective charms towards them.

Abby took a step back, but one of them hit Tom's hand. It hissed and smoked as it fell to the porch. His fists clenched in anger.

John started reciting the Latin and Abby and Tom froze where they stood.

"You don't want to know why?" She yelled over John's words.

He didn't stop.

"I'm planting seeds for an army, but most of these humans are too weak." Her eyes met Sam's. "I have high hopes for you, Samuel. You seem different than the others. Your family is, at least."

John finished the exorcism. Abby and Tom crumpled to the porch. The demon was gone and the town was safe, but John didn't feel relieved.

Sam looked at his dad. Dean rested his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Let's go home." John's words were hollow.

"When did you know?" Sam's voice cracked on the words.

John didn't want to have this conversation in the street in the middle of the night, but he knew Sam needed answers. "When I saw the scratch on your wrist, I was pretty sure."

Dean's grip on Sam's shoulder tightened. "He'll be okay, though, because the demon's gone?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

Without another word, they went to the car.

-ff-

Oh no! At least the case is solved, for the most part. Thank you all so so much for reading and for the comments. I love reading them and they definitely keep me writing this for you.


	7. Step Four

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Once back home, Sam didn't say a word as he got out of the car and went to his room. He didn't want Dean and John to be watching his every move for signs that he was going to die like all the other kids, even though that fear beat in time with his heart. He looked down at the small scrape on his wrist, the mark of his possible death. It wasn't anything, hardly even an injury.

Dean appeared in the doorway. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, but didn't look up to meet his brother's concerned gaze.

He sat down on his bed across from Sam. "Bet you'll be fine."

"Might be a little soon to be making that bet." He looked up then. "Promise me something?"

"Sure." He shrugged.

"Swear you won't be asking if I'm okay every ten seconds." He managed to smirk, just a little.

"Every twenty, then."

"Jerk." He almost smiled.

Dean hated the waiting as much as Sam did, as much as they all did. He hated how nobody knew if Sam would wake up in the morning just fine, or if he would start to show the symptoms that would end up in his death.

John walked past the room. "Get to bed, boys." He turned off the hall light.

Sam and Dean kicked off their shoes and crawled between their blankets. They both lay awake for a long time after the house got quiet.

Dean woke first in the morning and he automatically looked over at Sam. He didn't know what he was expecting, Sam was asleep and that was about as much as Dean could tell. He got up to shower and noticed that John was already up. After a quick shower, Sam was still asleep, so Dean went to the kitchen for coffee. It was hardly light out yet, pretty early for Winchester standards when the case was theoretically over.

"Couldn't sleep?" Dean asked as he poured coffee.

John had his notes open in front of him. "I slept."

He sat down at the table. "Sure."

"How's Sam?"

"Asleep. He did ask me not to check how he is every ten seconds."

John nodded slightly, but he was still absorbed in his notes. Dean only saw him like that in the middle of a case, when he absolutely needed answers.

"Anything?" Dean nodded towards the open notebook.

John looked up at his oldest and saw the glimmer of worry in his eyes. "Nothing yet. Thinking of calling in Jim's help, this seems to be his area of expertise."

"Couldn't hurt, I guess. When are we leaving?"

He paused. "I don't know. We're a good full twenty four of driving away, but if Sam- I want to know he's fit to travel."

Dean knew the unspoken words. If Sam got sick while they were traveling, then there would be even less they could do to help him.

"Leave now and get ahead of whatever happens?" Dean ventured.

John sighed. "It crossed my mind, we'll run it by Sam."

Sam woke alone in the room. The sun was just starting to come through his window. He could hear the muffled voices of his father and brother in the kitchen, just like always. He sat up to see if anything was different. He scoffed a little at himself, he felt fine. Maybe this was all over. The next few days were going to suck then, with John and Dean watching his every move waiting for the Winchester luck to kick in and everything to go to hell. He got up to shower and wasn't surprised to find John and Dean watching him as he came into the kitchen.

"Christ." He muttered and got cereal down from the cupboard. "Can you not stare at me the entire time? I'm not going to spontaneously combust or anything." He turned. "And before you ask, yes, I'm fine and no, I'm not lying. My head doesn't hurt, my stomach feels fine, I don't feel dizzy or feverish or achy. If anything changes, I swear, you'll be the first to know."

There was a muscle working along John's jaw at Sam's tone, but Dean mostly just looked amused.

Sam poured his cereal and sat down at the table. He refused to look up from the bowl as he ate.

"Sam." John said after a few minutes.

He looked up and tried to keep anything that could be viewed as attitude out of his gaze.

"Thinking of heading up to Pastor Jim's. Case is over and I could use his thoughts on some things."

Sam leveled his gaze on John. "You mean that if I turn demon, you want me on hallowed ground." He picked up his bowl and dumped it in the sink. "I heard her too, dad." He left and went back to his room. The door slammed a second later.

John scrubbed his hands over his face. "Christ, that kid is going to be the death of me. Unless I kill him first."

"You're right, I never was that much trouble at his age." Dean smirked. "Want me to talk to him?"

"Let him be, last thing I need is him mad at both of us." He turned back to the notes. "You can clean the weapons and start to pack up what we don't need. Whether we leave today or in a few days, I still want Jim to look him over. She did something to him and I don't trust it."

Sam spent the day in his room reading. Both an act of defiance towards whatever plans his father had and also because he rarely got time to read what he wanted. Every time Dean or John poked their head into the room, Sam would say "Still fine." in a slightly frustrated voice.

Mid afternoon, Sam noticed a faint headache that hung just behind his eyes. He tossed his book aside and closed his eyes for a moment. He was no stranger to headaches, but the prospect of one now scared him. There was a twist of fear in his gut and he really wanted it to just be one of his usual headaches.

He walked out to the living room. "Going to go for a walk, do you want Dean to chaperone?"

John looked up from the books and notes. "You should be fine, be home by dinner."

Dean half stood to follow anyway. He waited until Sam was out the door for a few minutes before he did just that. Dean knew that if he didn't stay out of sight, he'd have to deal with an angry and angsty little brother, something he tried to avoid at all costs.

Sam was hoping the warm summer day would clear his head, maybe the headache was just a result of little sleep and too much reading. He figured Dean was following him, even if he didn't ever see his brother. Too much was at stake for him to go off by himself. He felt a twinge of annoyance, but mostly he knew the real reason behind it. Dean had his back.

He leaned on the railing of the bridge and looked out over the water. It wasn't long before he noticed Dean a few feet away.

"Strange meeting you here." Sam muttered and glanced over.

"Well, you know. Not much to do in a town this size." Dean shrugged. "So, how about that baseball team that's been doing well?"

Sam looked over at Dean. "What?"

"You won't let me ask how you are, so I'll ask you other questions."

He sighed. "I'm fine, kind of a headache, but for me that's nothing new."

When he wanted to, Dean had a damn good poker face. He didn't let the worry bleed through to Sam. "Thanks for telling me. Wanna head home?"

"Sure." He shrugged.

He and Dean walked back home. The streets were still pretty empty, nobody really knew that it was over. They just kept waiting for the next kid to die. Eventually, after a week and then another, with everyone still alive, they'd begin to think that it was done. By then the Winchesters would be long gone and nobody would know. That's how it usually was.

Sam was quiet through dinner, his headache was a little worse and he was afraid of what that meant. It didn't feel any different than his other headaches, but there was a fear he couldn't explain, a vague feeling that this was different somehow. He hoped it was just worried because of all that had happened over the past couple weeks. He hoped he was just paranoid because of what he knew. Needless to say that between the headache and the worry, Sam didn't eat much for dinner. Dean and John didn't force it, their own appetites were a little weak as well.

After dinner Sam and Dean went for their usual three mile run, a little slower than most nights. Sam's head pounded with his heart, he'd trained with headaches before, and Dean told him they didn't have to go as far. Sam wanted to run, to clear his thoughts, to move because he had the fear that everything was going to go downhill pretty damn soon and pretty damn fast. Dean had that suspicion, too. He knew Sammy better than he knew himself, and he knew something was up with the kid.

Sam and Dean got home just after dark. John wouldn't have ever admitted to waiting for them, but that's exactly what he was doing.

"Dad?" Sam took a couple steps into the room.

Dean and John turned to look at him.

"Maybe you should call Pastor Jim after all." Sam's knees buckled and Dean was almost too slow to catch him.

John swore his heart stopped.

Dean held his little brother on the floor. Sam wasn't unconscious, the pain spiked through his head. He held on to fistfuls of Dean's shirt and he trembled.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was low. "Talk to me."

"Headache." Sam breathed, his eyes were squeezed closed.

Dean looked up at John for an answer, any answer.

"Let's get him to bed." John helped Sam up.

Sam was guided to bed where he sunk into the pillow. John got a bottle of pain pills and an ice pack while Dean sat with his brother.

-ff-

First of all, I want to thank all of you for sticking through the unexpected hiatus. Let me 'splain, no there is too much, let me sum up. The week before Halloween, I was crazy busy sewing my costume, the week of Halloween was crazy busy with Halloween things, the week after I was dying of the cold that turned into the flu because I did all of the Halloween things. Then it was November, and I had the crazy idea to to NaNoWriMo (look it up, if you don't know). I also went to Seattle and had Thanksgiving in November. So needless to say, any of my time to write was spent trying to write 50,000 words (I did, by the way, in about 11 days). But I'm back now, and there should be more regular updates.

Also, sorry about the cliffhanger ending…well, I'm not really. Thank you a million times for reading.


	8. Fade

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam had finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. Lines of pain still creased around his eyes and his mouth was tight with it as he slept. John leaned back in the chair he had pulled into the room. Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed, his hand rested in the middle of his little brother's chest.

Dean looked to John. "What are you thinking?" He knew, but he wanted to hear his father say it.

"You're the one who knows Sam." He muttered.

"He'll be okay." Dean said it because there was no other option.

John had a theory that he didn't want to test, the theory that if he lost one of his boys, he would lose both of them and then he didn't know how much of himself there would be left either.

Sam rolled to his side and the ice pack fell from the back of his neck. "Dean?" He didn't open his eyes.

Dean leaned forward. "Right here."

He took a slow breath and cracked his eyes open. In that moment all Dean could see was fear in his little brother's gaze. Sam coughed a little and blood started to run from his nose. John pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it to Sam's face.

Automatically, Dean moved to Sam's back and sat him up a little. He pulled Sam's back against his chest and held Sam's head down so most of the blood wouldn't go down his throat. Sam's breath caught slightly as the pain spiked, but then he just let himself relax in Dean's arms.

"Just breathe, kid." Dean whispered in Sam's ear. "I'm not going anywhere."

John went to get a wet cloth.

Sam gripped the fabric of Dean's pants. He shivered slightly and Dean could feel the start of a fever.

"Dean?" Sam would have hated how young he sounded, but he was in too much pain to care.

"What do you need?"

He was so damn tired and everything hurt, like he was being burned from the inside. He wanted Dean and John to fix it, like they always did. He wanted this to just be some wicked flu he caught and not something a demon had given him. He wanted to be alive in a week.

"Sammy?"

If only he knew how to say all that in as few words as possible. He shook his head slightly and felt Dean's fingers pinch the bridge of his nose a little harder. It must have been bleeding more.

John returned with the wet cloth and passed it to Dean. Sam winced as the cold was pressed to his face. He focused on Dean's left arm wrapped around his chest, Dean's heartbeat against his back, Dean's right hand that held the cloth to his face. If he focused on that, then the pain was a little more bearable and the fear didn't wrap so tight around his stomach. Dean wouldn't let anything happen to him, never had. He slipped back to sleep.

It took a lot longer than John or Dean wanted to stop Sam's nosebleed. At that point, Dean wasn't sure whether his brother was sleeping or unconscious.

John met Dean's worried gaze. "We need to take him to Jim's."

"Now?"

He sighed, Christ, he didn't know what to do. "I don't know how to help him, Dean."

"Call him, maybe he can tell you something."

"I did, he's looking into it, but he doesn't know."

Dean looked at Sam in his arms. "Not yet."

"Dean, we don't have a lot of time on this one."

"I know."

John stood. "The morning, then."

Dean didn't answer. It seemed too cruel to move Sam when he was so sick, and it was only going to get worse. There was nothing anyone could do, and that was what hurt the most. He shifted out from behind Sam and gently laid the kid down in bed. Sam curled under the blanket and shivered slightly. It was going to be a long night for everyone.

He sat at Sam's bedside through the first of the night hours. John came in a time or two with a glass of water or an ice pack, but mostly he was at the table trying to figure out anything to save his son.

Around two in the morning, John came in to give Dean a chance to rest. He didn't figure Dean would actually sleep, but it was worth a shot. Mostly he just lay in his bed and looked at his little brother across the room. Sam was pale and his hair was damp with sweat. He hadn't moved in a while, Sam was notoriously a restless sleeper, even more so when he was sick. Seeing him so still made Dean's heart clench in fear.

Two hours into John's shift, Sam's eyes blinked open. He rolled to the side of his bed and vomited onto the floor. Dean was at his brother's side in half a second. He kept on hand on the back of Sam's fever hot neck and the other on his burning forehead.

"You're all right, Sam. Just breathe."

Sam retched again.

John quickly left the room and returned with a towel and a trashcan. Sam continued to retch for the better part of the next two hours. It was mostly dry heaves once everything had been purged from his stomach. They didn't even try to get him to drink anything, it was pointless.

As the horizon started to show the first signs of dawn, Sam finally stopped. He sagged in Dean's grasp, his breathing was ragged and harsh. Carefully, John cleaned up his youngest and eased him into Dean's arms. John stepped into the hall and closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn't strong enough to lose Sam, not Sam.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was quiet to keep from waking Sam.

John stepped back into the room.

"He needs to drink something."

He nodded once and went to get a glass of water.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was pretty much gone and his throat was raw.

He brushed Sam's hair back. "Right here."

Sam shifted uncomfortably and reached up towards his neck. "Burns, please. Hurts." His hand fell limp against his chest.

"What does, Sam? Talk to me."

He shook his head. "S'buring me." He half sobbed.

Dean eased Sam's shirt up and his breath caught in his lungs. Several circles were red and raw, fresh burns, along Sam's neckline. He saw the silver chain of the metal charm and gently lifted it with one finger. Sam sighed out of relief and Dean couldn't help but notice that the charm was the exact size of the burns. He unclasped it and tossed it onto the nightstand. Carefully he ran his fingers over the burns and Sam would have tried to get away if he only had the energy to.

He pulled down Sam's shirt. "You okay, now?"

"Hmmm." He sighed and pulled closer to Dean.

John came back into the room with the water. He handed the glass to Dean who expertly tipped it into Sam's mouth. Some of the water didn't make it in, but he swallowed most of it.

"Dean?" John's eyes were on the protective charm on the nightstand.

He glanced over and then back at Sam. "It burned him." The words were hard to say.

John felt his blood go to ice for a minute. He tugged up Sam's shirt and saw the round burns on Sam's chest. He didn't know what he could possibly do to save his boy.

He looked at Dean for a minute and then down at Sam. "Christo." He sighed in small relief, at least Sam didn't flinch at the word.

"Maybe Pastor Jim…" Dean let the words fade. "But it's a hell of a drive for him right now."

"We don't have many other options." John cupped his hand against Sam's fevered cheek. "And we're running out of time."

Dean knew as well as John did that once the kids got sick, they were in a coma in three days, dead in five. Sam was already at the morning of day two and it was a full day until they could get to Pastor Jim.

"Okay." Dean breathed.

John left to put what they needed in the impala. He'd put the rest of their things in the truck and call Caleb or Bobby to pick it up. He didn't want Dean driving alone with Sam, and he didn't want to be in a separate vehicle from his son.

Dean stayed with Sam, he wouldn't have left for anything. Sam shivered and Dean pulled the blanket up. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy." He whispered and hoped it was true.

John came back into the room. "Ready?"

"I guess." Dean slid out from under Sam. "It all just seems wrong." He wasn't sure if he was talking about taking Sam across the country or talking about Sam being in this situation at all.

John squeezed Dean's shoulder and picked up Sam. His kid was too big to be carried like he used to, Sam's head was tucked between John's shoulder and neck. Dean grabbed the blankets and went to put them in the back of the car. John carried his boy out of the apartment and hoped he was doing the right thing.

"Dad?" Sam shivered once the cool outside air hit him.

John glanced down. "Yeah, Sammy."

"Goin' t'pastor Jim's?" The words all slurred together and were no louder than a sigh.

"We are, kiddo."

He nodded slightly and John eased him into the car. Usually, when one of the boys were hurt or sick and they had to ride in the car, they'd stretch out in the back on their own. This time, Dean climbed in after his brother and arranged Sam's head on his lap. He needed to keep tabs on how Sam was doing, and it was harder to do that from the front seat.

John went around to the driver's side and they pulled out of the driveway. He pushed the speed limit as much as he dared. He kept half his attention on the road and the other half on the soft words of comfort Dean kept telling Sam. They had no intention of stopping for anything other than gas and bathrooms if they could help it. There wasn't time.

-ff-

Oh no! Hopefully Pastor Jim will know something. Don't worry, nobody dies. I don't write that kind of story. So at least you have that reassurance.


	9. Step Five

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam was asleep for most of the trip and that worried Dean. Asleep looked a lot like unconscious and that was too damn close to coma, which was too damn close to dead. He had to resist the urge to wake Sam up every hour or so, just to make sure he still could. John had driven all day and he was going to keep going until they had pulled into Pastor Jim's driveway.

"Dean?" He looked up in the mirror. "You hungry?"

"No."

"If I grab something quick next time we stop for gas, would you eat?"

He brushed his hand over Sam's fevered forehead. "Is that an order?" 

"It can be."

"Fine." He glanced out the window at the oncoming night.

John paused and took a slow breath. "How's he doing?" 

"Fever's up, hasn't moved in a while." His jaw was set hard. "How much longer?"

_Too long._ "Five, six hours maybe."

Dean turned his attention back to Sam and John pressed a little harder on the accelerator. Sam shifted and his eyes blinked open for the first time in hours.

"Sammy?" Dean leaned forward to get a better look at him.

Sam pulled himself closer to Dean and gripped handfuls of his jeans. He was too tired, too sick, in too much pain for words. Everything inside of him felt like fire and knives and he couldn't make his arms and legs work properly. He must have made some sort of sound because Dean was running his hand through Sam's hair.

"You're all right, Sammy. Just breathe, you're gonna be okay." Dean muttered close to his ear. "I'm right here."

Dean held a bottle of water to Sam's lips and he tried to pull away. Dean wouldn't let him, so he ended up swallowing some of the water anyway. It burned down his throat like acid and hit his water like ice. Dean didn't make him drink any more. He pulled the blankets up around Sam's shoulders.

He could feel the pull of sleep again. "Dean?"

"Right here."

"M'okay." He sighed and slipped back under.

Dean leaned his head back and took a slow breath. Unless they figured out what to do, Sam would be dead in less than four days and he was telling Dean he was okay.

"Don't you go anywhere without me." Dean whispered so only Sam could hear. "You're not allowed."

It was a few hours past dark when John had to pull into a small gas station. He stopped the car next to the pumps and looked back at Dean.

"You need to get out for anything?"

"No." He kept his gaze on Sam.

John got out of the car.

"Dad?" Dean looked up at him. "Make it quick."

While the gas tank was filling, John went in to grab a couple sandwiches. He wasn't hungry and he knew Dean wasn't either, but them not eating wouldn't help Sam. He poured himself a cup of what the gas station called coffee and went to check out. He threw the money on the counter and jogged back out to the car. Under five minutes, had to be a record. They pulled back onto the highway.

John handed one of the sandwiches to Dean. "Eat that."

He did as he was told, though it felt like he was chewing cardboard and that had nothing to do with the gas station quality of the sandwich. Sam shivered almost constantly and Dean couldn't ever remember seeing him so pale.

Pastor Jim stepped out onto the porch when he heard the Impala pull into the driveway. Ever since John had called him, desperate and scared and trying his hardest to not let it show in his voice, Jim had been looking through every book he had. He knew it was bad, but he didn't expect Sam to be as sick as he was.

John got out of the car and went around to Dean's door. For a minute, he just stood there and looked at his youngest.

"How is he?" John's voice was low.

Dean shook his head slightly. "I don't know how to fix this."

He gripped Dean's shoulder. "We will. Let's get him inside."

Dean slipped out from under Sam and helped get him into John's arms. A blanket was tucked around Sam and John carried him up to the house. Dean grabbed what they needed from the car and went inside.

Jim directed John to the downstairs bedroom. He had the bed all set up and Sam looked small and vulnerable when John finally set him down. Dean set the bags down and stood back out of the way. He wanted to sit with Sam, have his little brother in his lap like he had done for the past ten hours and every other time Sam was sick, but he had to let Jim help. John stood over by Dean and put his arm around his son's shoulders.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed next to Sam. The boy was thin and pale. He hadn't woke or moved since before he was taken from the car. Jim said quiet words in Latin and made the sign of the cross on Sam's forehead with his thumb. Sam turned slightly into the touch, but didn't move other than that. Jim sat back and looked towards the Winchesters.

John was afraid to ask. "Jim?"

"Too soon to tell." Jim met Dean's eyes. "This fight's far from over. Why don't you two go get cleaned up and something to eat. I'll stay with him."

Dean wouldn't have left if John hadn't made him. Jim turned back to Sam and took out a small bottle of holy water. He let a few drops fall onto his finger. He drew a line with the water across the back of Sam's hand. Sam shifted away slightly and made a small noise of discomfort. When Jim looked down, there was a faint red mark, like a burn where he and put the holy water. Jim closed his eyes for a moment and said a prayer for Sam. The boy was going to need all the help he could get.

Jim wasn't surprised that John and Dean were back in about ten minutes. They had changed clothes and Jim hoped they had eaten something. Dean carefully sat on the edge of the bed near Sam's legs.

"Pastor Jim?" Dean asked quietly.

He turned to Dean. "I'm not giving up yet, are you?"

"No."

"Then we're not out of options yet." He held Dean's gaze.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam. Jim stood and went over to John.

"What do we do?" John's voice was rough with fatigue and worry.

Jim took a slow breath. "It won't be easy and it might not work, but it's all we got."

"Jim?"

"In the morning, we'll take him down to the chapel."

John met Jim's eyes and suddenly knew what had to happen. John Winchester had only seen a purification ritual once and the victim didn't survive. He felt ice in his veins, what Sam was going to have to go through in the morning would test all of them.

"John." Jim's gaze was determined and hopeful. "Sam's a strong kid, he's going to make it through this."

John looked at his boy and wished there was anything else they could do. He wished it was just the flu, something easy. Just once, something easy.

Jim managed to convince the Winchesters to get a little sleep while he stayed up with Sam. John and Sam would have stayed awake for a week straight if Jim would have let them.

Sam's fever spiked that night. It was as though Dean knew, because just about the time Jim went to get some ice packs, Dean was in the doorway holding a couple.

"If he's running a fever, it's always worse at night." Dean whispered and sat down next to his brother.

Dean tucked one of the ice packs under Sam's neck and the other two under his arms.

"Though you were sleeping." Jim kept his voice low even though there was hardly any chance of waking Sam.

"Can't sleep when he's sick."

Dean took the damp cloth from the table and gently wiped it over Sam's face before he rested it on his forehead.

"He's going to need you tomorrow."

"He needs me now." He paused and glanced over at Jim. "What are you going to do to Sam, tomorrow?"

"Save him."

"Jim." If Dean could have turned to water to ice with that glare, there wouldn't have been a need for the ice packs. "I'm too old to be lied to."

"You ever seen a purification ritual?"

Dean shook his head. "Dad talked about it once."

"What'd he say?"

He turned his attention back to Sam and gently brushed his hair back. "Not much. Said it didn't take and we moved on. He never mentioned it again."

"It's going to be hard for everyone, Dean, but you're going to have to do just as I say if you want any chance of Sam back."

Dean nodded without taking his eyes off of Sam. "Anything. Please."

-ff-

Not sure how many more chapters. 2 or 3 probably. Hope you all had good holidays and Happy New Year to you.


	10. Burn

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Sam's fever hovered around 104 despite Dean and Jim's efforts to keep it down. He hadn't moved in hours and Dean wished that he could take Sam's place.

Dean turned at the scent of coffee and saw John in the doorway. Without a word, John handed the mug over to his son. It was about an hour from dawn, but the thought of a new day did nothing but worry everyone.

Jim stood and carefully tucked blankets around Sam. "Bring him into the chapel, I'll meet you there." He left John and Dean with Sam.

He paused in the doorway and looked back at the Winchesters. Jim prayed it would work, but nothing was certain. He figured if he were a betting man, a little less than half a chance to save Sam.

With Dean's help, John took Sam into his arms. His boy was too warm, too still, too thin, too sick. Dean wrapped the blankets around Sam and wouldn't meet John's eyes. He didn't want to see the uncertainty of saving Sam, didn't want to see the fear that they were all too late.

Pastor Jim had a small chapel on his property. It was behind the house, at the end of the driveway. Ten rows of pews and a pulpit at the front, simple stained glass windows and a maximum capacity of about one hundred. He held small Sunday services among other lesser-known events. Anything from baptisms and funerals to blessings and exorcisms.

There was frost on the grass as John carried Sam towards the building. Dean followed behind, silent like he was on a hunt. Sam's breath rose in faint clouds above him and John told himself that at least his boy was still breathing. They still had that.

Dean hadn't spent a lot of time in Pastor Jim's chapel, he didn't have much use for the building. Sam had gone there more frequently, but Dean had no idea what for. Sam never told him and he stopped asking. John usually steered clear as well, he hadn't had much use for religion. He believed in the dark things, but didn't put much stock in the light. Sam usually managed to, though, despite everything.

Dean held the door for John as he slipped through. The three Winchesters stood just inside the doors and waited for Jim's instructions on how to save Sam's life.

Jim came from a door in the back, he had changed into his black shirt and white collar. He held a black case, like an old fashioned doctor's bag. His gaze was determined and there were hard lines on his face.

"Place him on the floor, between the first row of pews and the pulpit." He spoke without argument.

John did as he was told and for a moment, Dean recognized how strange it was to see John following orders. Dean glanced up at the wooden cross and looked at the carved face of Jesus that hung there. _Please_ he thought _if you're there, save my brother. Please don't take Sammy._ He shook his head once as thought he were chastising himself for talking to a wooden statue. He moved closer to his dad and brother.

"Remove his shirt." He set his supplies up on the few pew. "Fold his shirt under his head."

Dean stepped forward before John could get to Sam. Gently, because he had done it a thousand times, he slipped Sam's shirt off of him. Dean folded it and tucked it under his little brother's head. Sam was pale and thin, even in the few days that he had been sick, the weight he lost was noticeable. The burns from the protective charm were half healed, but still clearly visible. Dean ran his hand along Sam's jaw for a moment and thought he saw his little brother's eyes almost open. _That's right, keep fighting_.

John rested his hand on Dean's shoulder and they both took a few steps back to give Jim room. He arranged Sam's arms and legs in the shape of the cross, one ankle resting over the top of the other and his arms outstretched. Jim draped thin silver chains over Sam's wrists and ankles, it reminded Dean of shackles and he suddenly understood that is what they were. Jim glanced back and John and Dean and then placed a longer chain across Sam's chest. John watched every second of this, it was just like the first time he had seen a purification ritual. The time he saw the one that didn't work and the victim was lost.

Jim stood and took the bottle of holy water and his bible. His bible wasn't like most other bibles, and that was aside from the small compartment in the back that held a couple vials of holy water. It also wasn't counting the devil's trap carefully inked in the back cover, anything demon that ended up with that book in their lap would find it hard to move at all. It was unique mostly because it was old, the pages thin and yellowed. Bound in thick black leather and written entirely in Latin. A silver cross was embossed on the front, which was incredibly useful for things with an aversion to crucifixes and or silver. So much power in such a small space, every inch of that book was useful in some way or another against the dark things of the world.

"I'll need you both to stand back." He met Dean's eyes specifically. "And to not interfere, no matter what, unless I ask. Do you understand?"

Both Dean and John nodded.

"What can I do?" Dean had always been the one to take care of Sam, it was his job.

"Pray." Jim turned to Sam and opened his Bible.

Jim looked down at Sam for a moment and couldn't help but remember that little boy that he had first met so many years ago. A little boy that asked more questions than there were answers for and wanted to learn everything and wanted to be just like his older brother. He took a slow breath and refocused his attention.

In some small part of Sam's mind, he was aware of a crushing weight at his wrists, ankles and across his chest. He heard Pastor Jim, his father and brother's voices, but not the words. Every inch of him hurt and he couldn't have moved even if he had the strength to try.

"PATER noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra." Sam tensed as Pastor Jim started the Lord's prayer.

The words broke into Sam's mind, clear and loud like a bell on a silent day. At the same moment the feeling of fire consumed every inch of him. Inside and out he was certain he was burning. He wanted to yell to Dean to get out, but he had no voice. The fire took that, too. Sam knew he was going to die from the flames, there wasn't an inch of him that didn't burn.

"Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

Pastor Jim took the flask of holy water and sprinkled it on Sam. That was when the boy started to scream. John gripped Dean's shoulder to keep him back. It was undiluted instinct that made Dean want nothing else than to run to Sam's side. John was certain his heart had cracked at the sound and he didn't know if he could keep Dean back. Sam yelled like every bone in his body was being broken, like his skin was being slowly pulled from him, like he was being pulled apart.

Sam arched up against the silver chains, but the held him as though they were iron. Blood and spit frothed at his lips and his fingers scraped against the floor for anything to hold onto. Small smears of his blood against the wood floor from his desperate attempt to grab on to something.

He was burning, he was engulfed in flames, he would not survive.

"Samuel." Pastor Jim's voice was solid and warm and commanding. He poured holy water on the nearly healed scratch on Sam's wrist. "Per vox of Senior sanctus lux lucis , EGO defaeco obscurum vobis. EGO to order vestri phasmatis futurus universus quod untarnished. Per SUUS palma , EGO purgo vos of malum virus vos. Amen."

Sam stopped screaming as soon as Pastor Jim said "amen". The boy went completely rigid; his back arched, his head thrown back, his fingers splayed out, his legs locked. He took one shallow, staggered breath and then was limp.

John felt his knees go weak. This is exactly what happened the other time. Nobody even dared breathe.

Jim knelt and pressed two fingers against Sam's neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and then tipped Sam's head back to open his airway.

"John." Jim didn't glance over, he just knew John would come. "Start compressions."

He pushed Dean aside and dropped to his knees next to his son. He placed his hands over the center of Sam's chest and began the effort to make his son's heart beat again. Dean was frozen where he stood.

Jim leaned forward and blew breath into Sam's lungs. John kept the compressions going. He wouldn't stop, not until his boy was back. Never. Jim pressed his fingers to Sam's neck again.

"John." His voice was quiet and weary.

"No." John growled.

Jim pulled John's hands from his son's chest and pressed two of John's fingers against Sam's neck. John automatically turned to Dean.

Dean sunk to his knees and took a slow breath.

Pastor Jim removed the silver chains from Sam. Where they had lain across the boy were faint bruises. More bruises from the chest compressions, a miracle none had been broken.

"We should bring him up to the house."

John carefully slid his arms under Sam's neck and knees. He pulled his boy close to his chest and stood. Jim went over and held out a hand to help Dean to his feet. The four wend up to the house without a word being said. Too much had happened to be put into words.

It seemed like hours should have passed, it certainly felt like it, but to Dean's surprise it was just after dawn. The grass still had frost and his breath still clouded in front of his eyes. He wondered for a brief second if an entire day had passed and this was already tomorrow, but that was stupid, it was still the same day. He looked at Sam in his father's arms and wanted everything to be different.

-s-

Latin translations:

"OUR Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."

"By the power of the Lord's holy light, I purge the darkness from you. I command your spirit to be whole and untarnished. By HIS glory, I cleanse you of the evil poisoning you. Amen."

-ff-

Sorry for the cliffhanger….well, not really. Did it work, is Sam saved or… I'll try and get the next chapter up in not too much time, maybe this weekend. Thank you all for reading, your comments are wonderful and definitely keep me writing.


	11. Step Six

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

John placed his son on the bed and pulled the blanket up. Dean sat down next to his brother and wiped the blood from Sam's mouth.

"He'll wake up, right?" Dean rested on hand in the center of Sam's chest, just to feel his shallow, labored breathing.

Dean turned to John when he didn't get an answer.

Pastor Jim stepped into the room. "He should, but it's too soon to say anything for certain." He stepped near Sam's bed. "Dean."

Dean stood and took a step away from the bed. Pastor Jim sat next to Sam. He dabbed two fingers in holy water and carefully pressed them to Sam's arm. Nothing happened and everyone could breathe a small sigh of relief. At least the purification worked. Jim took a simple rosary from his pocket and rested the cross in Sam's hand. He folded the boy's fingers around it and wrapped the beads around his wrist.

Sam hadn't so much as moved through all of it, not on his own accord anyway. His breath rattled in his chest like when he had pneumonia a few years back and his fever still held. He looked so young, so helpless. It was easy to forget that not even a week ago he was fighting against John's rules and regulations, that a week ago he had managed to beat Dean in sparring a few times.

Jim stood again so that Dean could take his place at Sam's side. He knew better than to suggest Dean get some sleep. Dean had spent the past sixteen years taking care of his brother and he wasn't about to let someone else take over now. John stood leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes locked on his boy.

"John." Jim's voice was quiet. "He's doing all right, all things considered."

A muscle worked in his jaw. "You're sure?"

"He wouldn't be able to have that rosary touch his skin if I wasn't." Jim rested his hand on John's shoulder. "You boy is alive, John. He's right there. Let's go get some coffee."

John slumped some. "Can you make it strong?" He managed a weak smile.

"Certainly."

John took a step towards Dean and gripped his shoulder. "There's a damp cloth on the nightstand. I trust you can take care of Sam for a bit while I talk with Pastor Jim?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

John and Pastor Jim left the room. Dean reached for the cloth and gently wiped the blood away from Sam's fingers. The blood from when Sam had nearly shredded his hands trying to grab the rough wood of the floor. Dean worked slowly and carefully so as not to cause Sam any more pain, just in case he could feel it. Sam would have bruises up and down his back and across his ribs later, but he was alive. All he had to do now was wake up, then the knot of fear and anxiety lodged just behind Dean's ribs would finally fade away.

Dean tossed the cloth back onto the nightstand and brushed Sam's hair away from his face. He felt for fever in the same motion and tugged the blanket a little higher over Sam's chest.

Not long after that, Jim stepped into the room. He placed a mug filled with ice chips and a spoon on the nightstand. He didn't say a word, just cupped his hand along Sam's jaw for a moment and squeezed Dean's shoulder. He left the two Winchester boys alone.

Dean knew that they were within twenty-four hours of Sam going to the hospital if he didn't wake up and drink something soon. Ice chips could only do so much and with the fever, he was already on the edge of dehydration. Dean slipped an ice chip between Sam's cracked lips and smiled a little as he watched his brother involuntarily swallow.

"You know, Sammy." Dean shifted closer to his brother. "It's pretty damn boring just sitting here waiting for you to wake up. I mean hell, I think even dad is starting you miss you talking back to him." He swallowed and looked away for a minute. "Please, Sammy. Just wake up."

John and Jim sat at the kitchen table. Mugs of strong coffee steamed in front of them. A clock ticked on the wall behind John.

"Thanks, Jim." John's voice was rough and his eyes were on his coffee.

"You know I'd do anything for those boys."

He nodded once. He was exhausted, but knew sleep was a long way away. He just wanted to know his son would wake up, wanted to know they weren't too late, wanted to know that he wouldn't lose anything else he loved. He wouldn't rest until he knew.

Jim stood, pulled something from a cupboard and poured a little whisky into John's coffee cup.

"It's not even ten o'clock, yet." John looked up and almost smiled.

"Don't worry about the details." Jim sat back down. "This is far from over and done, John. Sam just needs time to wake up, he's been through a lot."

John nodded again, he knew that, but it didn't help anything. "Did you think it would work?"

Jim straightened slightly. "I had faith it would."

"That's not what I asked."

"The odds weren't in our favor, but your son is alive and upstairs." Jim took a slow breath. "Give your boy some time and he'll come back to you."

John took a drink of his coffee and rested his head in his hands.

"Go grab a few hours sleep."

He shook his head. "Not until I know Sam's all right." He muttered.

As much as Jim wanted to argue that Sam would need his dad when he did wake, he knew it was useless. The Winchesters were stubborn if they were nothing else.

Jim stood. "I'll put a more comfortable chair in Sam's room, then." He left John at the table.

Jim quietly moved a small armchair into a corner of the room. Dean was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced over at Jim for a moment and then returned his attention back to Sam.

"How's he doing?" Jim rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean lifted the mug of ice slightly. "Got about half of this into him."

"Good. Do you need anything?"

He shook his head and put the mug on the nightstand. John came into the room just as Jim was leaving. He took the chair in the corner of the room and Jim left the family alone.

Pastor Jim brought up a few sandwiches for John and Dean a few hours later. John was asleep in the chair, his journal open on his lap. Dean had stretched out at the end of Sam's bed, his hand over his brother's shin. Without making a sound, Jim left the room and figured lunch could wait a while.

Dean was awake the instant he felt Sam move. In all honesty he didn't even remember falling asleep.

"Sammy?"

-ff-

This one was short, sorry about that, and difficult to write due to the way I want the chapters to fit in with the plot. I know there wasn't much action, but it seemed like everyone just needed a bit of a break. I'll try and get the next chapter up in not too much time, probably just one more. Thank you all for reading, your comments are wonderful and definitely keep me writing.


	12. Wake

I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.

-ff-

Dean met Sam's eyes for the first time in days. Even though Dean could clearly see the pain in his little brother's blurred gaze, Sam was awake.

He moved up so he could se Sam better. "Hey." He smiled a little.

Sam's hand moved towards his brother and Dean took his Sam's cold fingers in his.

"Dean." He could hardly even whisper.

"You doing all right?"

Sam shook his head slightly, enough that Dean could see. Every inch of him hurt like he had gone ten rounds with a particularly pissed off poltergeist. His throat burned and his mouth was dry. His head throbbed with every heartbeat like a jackhammer.

"What hurts?" He reached for the glass of water on the table.

Sam closed his eyes as Dean allowed him a small drink. He looked at his older brother and tried to tell him without words everything that was wrong.

Dean cupped his palm against Sam's jaw. "Hey, you're all right. We'll just play a little game of twenty questions. One finger for yes, two for no. Got it?"

Sam held up one finger.

"Knew you were the smart one." He winked.

He managed a small smile and knew he'd be all right, Dean was looking out for him.

"Your head hurt?"

One finger.

"How bad?"

Nine fingers out of ten.

Dean turned when he heard John shift in the chair behind him. John's gaze was fixed on his youngest, it was the best thing he had seen in weeks.

"How's he doing?" John went straight to Dean for the answers.

He squeezed Sam's hand. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind some pain killers and a glass of apple juice."

John got to his feet and Dean could hear his spine crack from across the room as he stretched. For a moment John looked older, Dean had never really thought about it before. John left the room.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "Dad's gonna get you something to help. Anything else hurt?"

One finger.

"Everything else hurt?"

A faint smile that was more of a grimace and one finger. It was then that Sam became aware of something in his other hand. He looked over and saw one of Pastor Jim's wooden rosaries tangled around his fingers. He shot a questioning look to Dean.

"Pastor Jim gave it to you, after we got you back here. I guess it's proof that you're okay."

Sam tightened his hand around it. He liked holding onto it, like it could protect him somehow.

"You want to hold onto it for a little longer?" Dean hadn't missed the way Sam tightened his grip on the small, wooden cross.

One finger.

John came back into the room with a small glass of juice and a bottle of pills. Strong ones. Carefully, Dean helped Sam sit up against the pillows some. Sam had his eyes screwed shut as he moved, he hadn't realized he was so bruised and hurt as he was. His ribs ached and the back of his shoulders and head were sore. He didn't have any idea why, but it also wasn't the focus of his concerns at the moment.

He felt Dean's hands on his shoulders. "Just breathe, Sammy. Nice and slow."

When he had finally gained control of his breathing again, Sam opened his eyes and met Dean's. There was worry still, under the relief.

"Think you can swallow these?" Dean tipped the pills into Sam's mouth and held up the glass of juice.

Sam wanted to finish the entire glass, he never had realized that apple juice could taste so amazing. Dean pulled the glass back and he smiled.

"Not too much, otherwise you'll get sick. You haven't really had anything in a few days, Sammy." Dean set the glass on the table. "Gotta take it slow."

"H'long was I out?" His voice was a little stronger.

Dean's jaw tightened. "Little more than a day."

He held Dean's eyes. "M'okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled out of relief. "You are."

Whether it was the pain medication or the little bit that he was awake, Sam was already falling back asleep. His instinct was to fight it, he didn't want to miss anything else, but he was so tired.

Dean brushed Sam's hair away from his face. "Sleep, we're not going anywhere."

Sam's eyes slipped closed and he was asleep. Dean didn't worry if he'd wake up again, he knew he would.

Pastor Jim stood in the doorway. "How is he?"

Dean turned. "He woke up, drank some juice." He couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

Certain that his boy was all right, John allowed himself to be persuaded to get a few hours real sleep in a bed. Jim could be very determined if he so choose to be. Dean moved to the chair John had been in, but wouldn't leave the room and Jim knew better than to try.

-s-

When Sam woke again, the room was dark. He felt a little better, everything hurt just slightly less and his thoughts were clearer. He could make out Dean sleep in the chair across the room. Pastor Jim sat in another chair closer to the bed.

"Sam, you all right?" Jim whispered.

He nodded and was grateful when Jim held a glass of juice to Sam's lips. Jim let him drink all of it and Sam could hardly remember the last time he experienced anything so wonderful.

"You want to try some toast or wait until morning?"

Sam swallowed. "Morning." He whispered. "Pastor Jim?" His voice was already fading.

Jim took Sam's hand. "What do you need?"

"Thanks." He lifted the hand that held the rosary, to give it back.

"That's yours, Sam." Jim winked. "To remind you that you're okay."

He smiled slightly and slipped back asleep. Jim felt Sam's fingers relax in sleep and he let go.

Jim was amazed that Dean hadn't woken, usually he knew his little brother's every move. He leaned back in the chair and sighed, his gaze still fixed on Sam. Jim smiled when he still thought of Sam as a boy, rather than a young man of sixteen that most of the time acted so much older. At the moment though, he looked young and vulnerable.

"He all right?" Dean whispered from across the room.

So much for Dean not waking up. "He's fine. Get some more sleep, I'll keep an eye on him."

Dean slumped back down in the chair and was out.

Jim sat at Sam's bedside for the rest of the night. He couldn't imagine a world without Sam Winchester, and he didn't ever want to. John's boys were nearly his own, as far as Jim was concerned, they were. He rested his hand on Sam's forehead and felt no fever. For the first time in days, Jim was convinced that the boy was out of the woods. He hated to remember back to the night when the Winchesters first pulled up and Sam was carried in and it was so uncertain if the boy would even make it through the night. Whether the Winchesters believed it or not, there was definitely someone looking out for them, and Jim was thankful for that.

-s-

Okay, first order of business. I'm so so sorry for taking so long to post this next chapter. Things got busy and life happened and my muse for writing this story took a vacation and I can keep making excuses. I'm sorry, but thank you a million times for sticking with this story and the wonderful reviews. I'm thinking one more chapter, just a few more loose ends to wrap up and then we're done.

Thank you all again for reading and reviewing, it really does mean a lot to me.


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